


Nailed It

by TruebornAlpha



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-22
Updated: 2015-03-22
Packaged: 2018-03-19 01:29:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3591243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TruebornAlpha/pseuds/TruebornAlpha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Evil cats, too much booze, and bad pick-up lines.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nailed It

“You have a very nice pussy.”

“Excuse me?” Stiles whirled at the voice, low and full of humor with the slightest slur around the edges. “I have a what?”

“Pussy.” Scott said with the absolute unfiltered sincerity of someone drunk off their ass. “Such a good little pussy wussy.”

“Oh my god.” The other boy stared, unsure if he should shove this loser over and leave him out in the yard or drag his sorry butt inside so he didn’t get eaten by squirrels. He settled for squinting suspiciously at the dark haired young man who’d invaded his backyard like he belonged there.

“Noooo, the pussy.”

“There’s no pu-“

“Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!” Scott stuck his finger in the general vicinity of Stiles’s face and almost had his finger bitten off for his trouble. He crouched in the grass and almost toppled over before righting himself and stretching his arms out. He wiggled his fingers making nonsense noises until Stiles was almost convinced the guy had lost a few too many brain cells. A soft mrrrr sounded somewhere by his legs and the gray one eyed monstrosity that Stiles only loosely referred to as a cat melted out of the shadows to pad its way over to Scott.

“Oh, dude. Be careful, that’s not a nice cat. It bites and scratches… and pees.” He couldn’t even get it to go away. It was a miserable animal that took gleeful pleasure in clawing up half of his apartment and shedding over the other half. It didn’t like to be touched and treated every attempt at petting it with a hiss and a sharp swipe of its claws, but Stiles couldn’t get rid of it. Literally, the thing would not leave him alone. He could set it outside of his apartment and it would somehow weasel its way back in as if the place belonged to it and Stiles was only visiting.

Now the ugly evil thing was headed towards the poor, drunk hottie who didn’t have a clue. With a loud rumbling purr that sounded like rusty gears grinding together, the beast flopped down by Scott’s hands and let the boy rub its belly while crooning babytalk.

Stiles stared.

“Pussy!” Hot drunk dude proclaimed with a brilliant smile, and the world seemed just that much brighter. Stiles didn’t think he’d ever heard it in that context. If he wasn’t so busy gaping, he might have commented. It wasn’t natural. Watching the little hellion curl around the weirdo’s ankles, batting at his demanding scratchy hands and not mauling anything left Stiles unhinged. He was pretty sure the Trojans felt the same way right after they’d dragged that horse in.

“Wait - is he yours? Do you want him?” Stiles asked, faith renewed. Maybe the cat was a giant ball of awful to make up for how happy and friendly and excruciatingly hot his owner was. Stiles made the mistake of trying to approach him. Satan lunged at him, hissing and spitting, and Stiles screamed before his short and frustrated life flashed before his life. He tried to shield his face. Death never came.

“Puss puss puss puss puss-”

The cat had returned to its spot by the drunk angel’s knees.

“Oh my god will you stop saying puss?”

Big, chocolate brown eyes stared deeply into his soul, and Stiles felt naked and exposed.

“Puss.”

“Oh my god!”

“Wait.”

Stiles watched as the other boy got to his feet, the cat that neither of them owned hacking unhappily as it tried to rub itself against his leg. A look of such intense concentration crossed the stranger’s features, and Stiles wondered if his lips were always that pink or if it was just the alcohol.

“I have to tell you something. It’s important.” The trespasser warned him, dropping his large, warm hands on Stiles’ shoulders. This close, Stiles could see the shadows his lashes cast on his cheeks, and they only got closer and closer and closer until - “You’re so pretty.”

Stiles blinked, too surprised to speak. A first.

“You’re like… super pretty, you know?” The drunk man said with a sweet smile, almost shy as he bent closer and Stiles could feel his cheeks heat in mottled patches. Whoa, hold everything. He wasn’t supposed to let some insanely hot guy wander into his backyard and just start giving him compliments. It wasn’t like he was completely unfamiliar with the attention, though he did grudgingly admit that most of the compliments he heard were the ones he paid to himself.

“I sh-should, uh. I can call you a cab?” Stiles tried not to look directly at the other man’s smile or the way it pulled crookedly across unfairly plush lips. “Or get a name?”

Scott moved closer for a moment as Stiles’s eyes went wide, freezing absolutely still and holding his breath in anticipation as if he could already feel those warm fingers trace down the side of his face and- Scott knelt by Stiles’s feet to scoop the evil mongrel up into a limp happy cat puddle before breezing past him and into his apartment before he had a chance to react. It was only the sound of the lock snapping into place that jolted him out of his stare state.

“Wha-, hey? That’s my apartment, open the door!”

Scott peeked out, cat cuddled contentedly in his arms who watched Stiles with one smug half-lidded eye. “Thank you for visiting, pretty dude! I’ll call you tomorrow, I’mmm gonna take a nap. Goodnight!”

“Nooooo!” Stiles banged on the door, mentally kicking himself for being so slow. Shit, seriously? No one would ever find out about this, he didn’t think he could live down the embarrassment of being locked out of his own home by some guy who’d apparently become best friends with his cat. With a muffled curse, he kicked around the lose bricks by the back door until he finally found the one where he’d hidden the spare key and muscled his way into the apartment.

Stiles charged through his house with a war cry and was immediately sorry. Stranger Danger dude was clonked out, wrapped in an old afghan that had more cat hair on it than the shedding monstrosity that was the cat, and he drooled shamelessly on Stiles’ couch. People who broke into other people’s houses (that was totally what happened; Stiles was already rewriting all his memories) did not deserve to look that good. A sound like a dying engine made Stiles jerk, and he came face to face with a one-eyed demon. Perched just by the cutie patootie’s head, the cat never looked away as it hacked up a hairball, uneven, but scarily sharp fangs bared. When it was done, it went back to trying to dig to the center of the earth from the arm of Stiles’ couch, and really, it was in everyone’s best interest that he stayed away.

“This is my house. Not his. Not yours,” Stiles hissed.

The drunk dude, pulled his blanket closer and rolled himself into a burrito, mumbling nonsensically. He seemed like a nice guy. Stiles hoped he didn’t steal his kidney in the middle of the night. That would suck.

“Hey, I’m Stiles, by the way and you’re super hot. You wanna make out next time or whatever before you come over? I’ll show you my Arkham Knight collection. It’s cool.” He mumbled under his breath. His cat took one, doleful look at him, turned on its finicky, super sharp claws and flashed him its butt hole. Stiles would totally kick it if his legs could reach that far.

When the morning sunlight crawled unwelcomely across Scott’s face, the young man groaned and tried to blink open his sticky, swollen eyes. Everything throbbed with every heartbeat and the world listed lightly beneath him as he tried to get his bearings. A low rumble like an earthquake grated in his ear and he flailed before his sluggish brain recognized the giant one eyed cat comfortably perched on his chest.

“Hey.” His voice sounded off, tongue too thick to form the words. “I know you. You’re that kitty from…oh, god.” Scott’s brain scrambled to reassemble the fractured pieces of the night before. He knew this cat, he stopped every night on his walk home from work to sneak the furry monster a few treats he kept in his pocket. His friends had mocked him endlessly about making friends with a guy’s cat instead of getting up the courage to introduce himself to the cute owner directly.

_“You ever gonna talk to crazy cat dude?” Isaac had asked, as they all thumped their shot glasses down on the bar table._

_Scott could only gasp as the liquor burned his throat, coughing before he shook his head. “And say what? You don’t know me, but I see you sometimes when I walk home and I think you’re really cute? By the way, I’ve been bribing your cat so I have an excuse to wait around and see if you’re around like a creeper?”_

_Boyd only grunted and gestured for another round._

_“You should do it! Show up on his doorstep tonight, say you’re celebrating your birthday and ask if you could unwrap him like a present.”_

_Scott choked, punching Isaac lightly in the arm before the three boys downed their next round. “Brilliant plan, I’m sure we’ll hit it off.”_

_“If you don’t do something soon, we’re gonna drop your drunk ass off at his house and make you do it. C’mon, don’t be a pussy.”_

_“Pfffft, pussy.” Scott scoffed as Boyd silently set another shot in front of him._

Realization hit like a freight train. The young man stared at the one eyed cat in horror as it gently kneaded its claws into the afghan with a contented purr. “Oh, you fuckers.”

Everything was muggy and slow, but once he’d lost ignorance, Scott couldn’t get it back. He wasn’t at home. He was very clearly not at home, and in that moment, he wasn’t sure if kidnapping his crush’s cat would have been better than finding himself here. This was so terrible. He somehow found the strength to push the feline off his gut with an oof. Scott could only guess, but he was pretty sure the cat was really made of stone. When it purred, it sounded like a threat. Once he started walking, it followed.

“I’m so screwed.” Scott whispered, running his hands through his hair. He gave it a sharp tug, trying to force back the migraine that nipped at his heels - or that might have just been the cat. “I’m so, so, so screwed.”

He tried to make a run for it. For something so old, cranky and broken? (seriously, Scott would bet he could hear the cat’s joints moving when it walked), his new prison warden was incredibly fast. It mewled dolefully, cutting off Scott’s escape route, and plopped its shedding butt right in front of the apartment door.

Scott groaned.

This was his chance. He could walk over the cat, and walk out of his crush’s life. Heck, he wasn’t even really in his crush’s life. He was just - on his couch. In his house. He should leave, save them both from mortification, dump his terrible friends, change his walking route, and maybe just move out of the city altogether. It wasn’t meant to be. Even if the cat’s owner had pretty brown eyes and a shameless laugh, and he waved at Scott that one time, and had loud and hilarious debates with his elderly neighbor.

Except something in the back of his head reminded him that he was already here. There wasn’t much he could do to make things worse. The voice sounded a lot like Kira’s, she was brave, even when she was scared.

The one-eyed tabby hacked, sympathetically.

Scott bit the inside of his cheek, and gave scritches away freely. “I mean, I probably should feed you…”

Stiles would walk in exactly 8 minutes later, to the cutest hungover dude he’d ever seen, trying to write ‘I’m Sorry’ with chocolate syrup on freshly made pancakes. He pinched himself.

The young man looked up sharply, dark hair standing in every direction and Stiles was hit with an almost overwhelming urge to run his hands through it.

“Uh…morning?”

Yup, Scott was going to make sure that the next time Isaac and Boyd woke up, they’d find themselves tied up in the cargo hold of some ship on their way to Tanzania. He managed a sheepish smile, shifting awkwardly from foot to foot. All he remembered was something about the cat and then almost nothing until he’d woken up on a strange couch. He’d still been dressed, so at least he hadn’t embarrassed himself by trying to get into his crush’s pants though who knew what kind of things he’d blurted out while smashed. This was humiliating.

“Good morning!” Scott said brightly, immediately regretting it as the extra effort made his headache spread down the back of his neck. “I made pancakes?” He held out the plate, the chocolate ‘y’ melting illegibly down the side of the fluffy stack. “I just…okay, don’t say anything? I’m sorry, I don’t really remember very much and I sort of drank a whole lot. I guess you knew that. Right. I’m Scott? I’m really sorry for everything, it was my dumb friends and my birthday and you wouldn’t happen to have an asprin would you?”

So much for the hung over hottie Scott being some kind of evil serial killer, that was a relief. Stiles chuckled at his heartbreakingly earnest expression like the guy was afraid of being thrown out any second. “Pancakes definitely buys you some asprin, dude. Sit down, you look like you’re gonna die, you are staying for breakfast, right?”

The cat yowled its agreement, flopping heavily against Scott’s leg.

“I really - I shouldn’t impose,” Scott heard himself say, and immediately wanted to kick in his own teeth for it. He didn’t have to worry. In the next breath, Stiles was pleading, “No stay!”

Scott smiled like he could outshine the sun, and Stiles wanted to kick himself in the teeth because it was just as hard to string sentences around him when he was hungover as it was when he was drunk. Also, pancakes. Seriously, there were pancakes!

He laughed as Scott picked up his monstrosity of a cat, like he wasn’t afraid his hand was going to be bitten off. “How are you doing that? That cat hates everyone.”

“What - no I’ve never seen this cat before in my life.”

Stiles closed his mouth, not quite sure if that was what he was asking, and watched, fascinated, as Scott shoved two pancakes into his face.

If he could keep his mouth full, maybe Stiles wouldn’t ask him any more questions he couldn’t answer. Scott grinned weakly around a bite, trying to maneuver himself to the table with a plate in one hand and the cat tucked under the other. The furry monster had other ideas, clinging painfully to Scott’s side as he settled at the kitchen table and trying to chew a determined hole through his pocket where he normally kept the treats.

Stiles sat down across from the other man, watching curiously as he tried his pancakes. “You okay there?”

“Totally fine, you just have a strange OW, cat. ” Scott said with a wince as the cat’s claws went a little too deep in sensitive skin. The beast ignored his obvious discomfort, purring loud enough that Scott could feel the rumble in his teeth. Stiles didn’t look entirely convinced, but warm fluffy pancakes were really distracting. “I’ll just clean up and I can go. I’m really sorry for whatever it is I did last night. I really didn’t mean to cause any trouble or do anything weird.”

“You didn’t do anything that weird, just broke into my house.” Stiles said calmly, licking chocolate syrup from his fork. “And told me I was pretty.”

Scott made a strangled noise that startled the cat on his lap and it was everything Stiles could do not to laugh.

“I’m so, so so sorry,” Scott started to say, looking down at his plate and wondering if he could smother himself to death on his pancakes. It might get messy, but he was desperate. So desperate, he threw caution to the wind. “But you are really pretty.”

Stiles was smug for all of two seconds, then his mouth fell open, and hot damn, he didn’t think he’d ever been this consistently speechless for so long. He might explode. He watched tanned skin flush dark, drawn in by the wicked gleam in his eyes, and the chocolate smeared over his lower lip. Stiles wanted to lick him so badly. He really was going to explode. “I think you’re pretty, too.”

Scott was going to say something witty. Something witty and charming and absolutely impressive. Then the demon cat stabbed him in the thigh and tore through his pocket, and Scott screamed loud enough to wake Stiles’ neighbors. Stiles did what he had to. He grabbed the one-eyed demon and threw it across the room. Scott just gasped.

They watched in horror as the cat tripped over itself and skidded into a stop, right by the fridge. It hissed angrily, promised painful deaths to both of them, and Scott lost it. He doubled over, laughing so hard his headache quadrupled its intensity, but he couldn’t stop. Stiles couldn’t stop looking at his mouth.

“You saved me!” Scott grinned. “From that monster!”

And Stiles didn’t know how he wasn’t kissing him already.

“It’s all in a day’s work,” he promised, and didn’t realize he’d dropped his elbow in the butter dish. “I figure, since I missed your birthday, it’s the least I can do.”

Scott’s nose wrinkled when he smiled, blushing all the way to his ears. This was so bad. It was going to bite him in the butt, and everything was terrible, but he whispered, “Maybe I can unwrap you like a present?”

Now it was Stiles’s turn to sputter, flush creeping across his face as Scott grinned, making a mental note to thank Isaac for the bad pick up line right after he shoved him in a hole for getting him in this situation to begin with. He felt like the top of his head was going to come off and the pancakes didn’t help settle his rolling stomach, but he was helpless to stop laughing at the other man’s face.

Stiles blew his cheeks out in a scowl, but he failed to be convincing. “You’re kinda doing this backwards, you know. You’re not supposed to be making me breakfast until after you unwrap me like a present, dude. And we just breezed right by the whole ‘my name is Stiles, let me buy you a drink’ part.”

“Sti-yules.” He tested the syllables out and thought they fit nicely along his tongue. “I guess I just like working backwards?”

“You’re kind of a weirdo, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, but you let some weirdo sleep on your couch last night.”

“Touché.” Stiles jerked his thumb at the cat who steadfastly ignored the pair of them as it groomed itself with an almost audible huff. “Plus, that mongrel likes you, which is a good sign. I better try to get into your pants before the cat does.”

“Oh my god.” The latino thunked his head down on the table as Stiles mentally congratulated himself on his awesome pick up skills. This was so much easier when he was flirting with a captive audience. “You might as well get comfortable, I’m not letting some poor hungover guy try and wander his way home. You’ll keel over on a street corner before you get a block.”

Scott peeked one eye out from his arms. “You’re gonna keep me here?”

“Just until you’re feeling better. Dude, you’re the one who broke in. Consider it citizens’ arrest.”

Scott spent his second night in a row at Stiles’s place. This time, it wasn’t on the couch.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find Tmautog's awesome fics [here](http://nevertrustastilesthing.tumblr.com/)
> 
> You can read Rune's stuff [Here](http://fightingforthepack.tumblr.com/) and find her on tumblr at [ Runicscribbles](http://runicscribbles.tumblr.com)


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